


do you believe?

by ava_kay



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Artist Newt, Bi Thomas, Breneresa, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gay Newt, M/M, athlete thomas, newtmas - Freeform, newtmas angst, newtmas au, newtmas fluff, optimist thomas and pessimist newt, slow burn newtmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:53:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13625118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_kay/pseuds/ava_kay
Summary: Newt is cynical. He’s never believed in things like miracles or coincidences. But when he meets Thomas, the overly optimistic dreamer in philosophy club, things might look a bit brighter.





	do you believe?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Believer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325639) by [niblows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niblows/pseuds/niblows)



“Nowhere,” Newt responds dryly, shading the wheel of the bike on his paper. He’s smudging it with his thumb when he stops, realizing he’d spoken aloud.

    “Nowhere?” Mr. Janson speaks back, making Newt look up from his drawing. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to answer. “You believe we go nowhere after death?”

    “Well, logically, yeah,” Newt says more quietly this time, feeling the eyes of the class on him.

    “I disagree,” a voice sounds from his right.

    Newt turns his attention to the boy who’d spoken. He’s looking back at him, his expression more inquisitive than judgmental.

    “Explain, Thomas,” Janson says. Newt almost rolls his eyes. He knows he’s right, and whatever this kid has to say won’t change his mind.

    “I don’t believe we _go_ somewhere, but I do believe that there’s something that hasn’t been explained in the universe, and I think that’s what it is,” Thomas says.

    Newt can’t help but argue back. This is philosophy, right? Open discussion. “Alright, let me put it this way. Once we die, our brains and our hearts will all stop working. Gone forever. Anything that we could use to keep existing consciously is bloody useless, so how do you think there’s anything after that?”

    Once he finishes speaking, his face softens, suddenly very aware of all the eyes on him. Next time he’ll keep his thoughts in his head.

    “You’re pretty cynical, aren’t you?” Thomas asks, Newt surprised to find a smile on his face.

    “No, I’m just… realistic,” Newt says.

    “Can’t help but notice you’re drawing a bike,” Thomas says, pointing to Newt’s desk.

    Newt feels heat rise in his cheeks as he puts his forearm over the paper, wishing he’d just disappear at this point. “So?”

    “So, I’m guessing you’re into realism. There’s nothing wrong with that, but all signs are pointing to cynicism. Or as _you_ see it, being realistic,” Thomas replies curtly.

    “Say what you want, but there’s no coming back from death,” Newt ignores his comments.

    “What if it’s something that was there the whole time that we don’t notice til after?” Thomas asks. Newt doesn’t answer, looking back down at his paper. After a second, Thomas speaks again. “Glass half full or half empty?”

    Newt laughs, picking up his pencil and continuing his shading. “Depends on if you just poured water into it or drank from it,” he says, before glancing back up at the boy.

    Thomas’ smile hasn’t gone away. In fact, it’s widened into a smirk. “Alright,” he nods.

    “Anyone else?” Mr. Janson asks.

    Newt looks away from Thomas and back down at the drawing he’s now self conscious about, feeling eyes burn a hole in the side of his head as he does so. Maybe joining this club was a bad idea.

    The rest of philosophy goes by slowly, Newt not saying a word the entire time. Thomas talks though, chiming in on every topic that’s brought up. He’s wildly optimistic and curious about _everything_ , Newt notices.

    When Janson dismisses them, Newt’s wondering how he’s never met Thomas before. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s seen him around. He’s probably a sports kid, they’re usually not put in honors and AP classes like Newt’s in, but what’s an athlete doing in philosophy?

    “What’s your name?” Newt looks up to see Thomas standing in front of his desk, his backpack slung over his shoulder. Caught off guard, he takes a second to answer, standing up and putting his papers back into his backpack.

    “Newt,” Newt says, putting his bag over his shoulder as well and trying to meet Thomas’ eyes.

    “Short for anything?” Thomas asks.

    “Uh, yeah, Newton,” Newt replies awkwardly. Thomas seems way too comfortable talking to someone he’s just met. Definitely an athlete.

    “As in Isaac Newton?” Thomas asks. “An outside of the box thinker. Natural philosopher of his time.”

    “Indeed,” Newt nods, half just wanting to get the conversation over with. Almost everyone else has left the classroom by now, the two of them left standing there.

    “I liked your drawing, by the way. You’re very talented,” Thomas says.

    Newt feels his phone buzz in his pocket and takes it out to see a text from his mother telling him she’s here to pick him up, before quickly putting it back in.

    “Thank you, and you’re very observant,” Newt says, stepping out from behind his desk. “It’s been nice chatting with you, Tommy, but my ride’s here.”

    “Oh, that’s fine, mind if I walk with you?” Thomas asks. If Newt’s not mistaken, there seems to be a blush rising in the other boy’s cheeks.

    “Sure,” he agrees, not wanting to be rude. The two of them awkwardly begin to leave the class, starting the walk to the front of the school. “Are you in any kind of sport?”

    Thomas smiles, nodding. “Track and baseball. How’d you know? Are you in a sport?”

    “Never,” Newt laughs. “I can be observant too.”

    “What tipped you off then?” Thomas asks.

    “Never seen you in any of my classes, you’re very talkative, and…” _You’re extremely fit_ , Newt wants to say.

    “And?” Thomas asks.

    “ _And_ the thing that I don’t get, is why are you in philosophy?” Newt saves it, looking ahead so he can’t embarrass himself.

    “Athletes have minds too, sometimes,” Thomas laughs. “I like you, Newt. You’re interesting.”

    Newt hopes his face doesn’t reflect the butterflies in his stomach at Thomas’ words, thankful he’s still staring ahead.

    “Even though I don’t think there’s an afterlife?” Newt asks.

    “I think I can make a believer out of you,” Thomas says.

    “A believer?” Newt asks, chuckling. “I’m not all that religious.”

    “Not that kind of believer,” Thomas says. “Can I give you my number?”

    Newt raises his eyebrows. They’ve come to the front of the school now, reaching a standstill. He turns to Thomas, trying to subtly look him over.

    He’s presumptuous, but he’s sweet. Newt regrets not saying he likes him too, choosing to substitute the words for a smile instead. The boy’s smiling back, his brown eyes filled with something Newt can’t place. He’s an inch or two shorter but with a bigger frame, somehow the perfect mix of buff and lanky. Definitely… well, Newt doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he’s undeniably cute.

    He takes his phone out and opens it to his contacts, handing it to him, Thomas taking it happily. Newt doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Thomas is probably popular, girls _and_ boys all over him all the time. Better ones than Newt. He’s probably constantly giving out his number.

    After a minute, Thomas gives the phone back, Newt knowing he’ll never actually use the number. They’re left staring at each other for a moment before Thomas speaks again.

    “You said your ride was here, right?” he asks.

    Newt’s eyes widen, nodding. “Oh, god, yeah, my…” he embarrassingly stumbles to the door, opening it before turning back to Thomas, who’s unfortunately got a smirk on his face.

    “Talk to you later, Newt!” he says with a small wave, his tone sweet as opposed to the cocky one Newt was expecting.

    “Later, Tommy,” Newt waves back before finally walking out the door to his car, mouthing ‘why’ to himself several times. That was a disaster.

 

  
It’s been six days philosophy, and Newt’s spent the whole week trying to forget about it. He never texted Thomas, deciding he’d just make a fool of himself if he did. He’d probably forgotten about Newt ten seconds after their conversation, anyway.

    Forgetting about Thomas has been difficult, though, considering he sees him a lot more often in the hallway now. Ever since he started noticing him, he’s everywhere, and every time Newt sees him, he avoids him. He’s not sure why he does it, but he’s managed not to be seen. If Thomas saw him, would he even care?

    School is finally over for the day and Newt’s sitting in his room with the girl he considers his best friend, partly because she’s basically his _only_ friend. They’d met when Newt went to one meeting of the GSA- the Gay Straight Alliance- at school.

    He was quiet the whole meeting and left early, but she’d come after him, introducing herself and telling him it was okay if he was shy. But she took him in after that, and Newt just went with it. Now she just texts him and comes over whenever she wants, and talks to him in their classes. She’s a good friend.

    “Brenda, how’d you and Teresa start dating?” Newt asks, pretending to be deeply focused on his drawing. He hadn’t told her about Thomas, because why would he? But he’s curious about how she managed to find a girl, figure out if she liked girls as well, and then on top of _that_ , figure out if she liked _her_.

    “I asked her out and she said yes,” Brenda says, Newt feeling her tap his shoulder. He turns in his chair to face her, and she’s smiling. He’s sitting at his desk and she’s sitting on his bed, patting the spot next to her now. “Why do you ask?”

    Newt hesitantly sits next to her, taking one look at her expectant face before flopping down on his back, knowing his face will give away anything he’s trying not to say. “Just tell me.”

    Brenda lies on her stomach next to him, propping herself up on her elbows and putting her face in her hands, her eyes exploring his expression.

    “Fine. We started talking, then one day I told her I was into girls, then she told me that she was too. I’d had a feeling, though. She seemed more flirty than friendly. A few days went by, I watched her body language and tried to pay attention to how she spoke to me. I figured it was worth a shot, asked her, and the rest is history,” Brenda says, Newt quite enjoying the smile on her face while she reminisces.

    “So you just told her you liked girls?” Newt asks. Brenda narrows her eyes at him, nodding.

    “Yeah, I mean, it felt like she might be so I went for it and told her _I_ was,” Brenda says.

    Newt feels his phone buzz in his pocket, making him jump. His mother and sister are home and Brenda is right next to him, who could possibly be trying to contact him? He takes it out and glances at the screen, before his heart skips a beat, his eyes widening.

    “What is it?” Brenda asks.

    Sitting up quickly, Newt unlocks his phone and goes to his texts, reading the message three times to make sure he’s not imagining it.

    **Hi there :)**

    The thing that makes it the most surreal is the contact name. _Tommy_.

    “Newt?” Brenda says impatiently, Newt barely hearing her. After a few more seconds she grabs the phone, snapping Newt out of it as he reaches for it back. Brenda sits up too, laughing. “Who’s _Tommy_?”

    Newt’s full on blushing now, taking his phone back, his heartbeat in his throat. “No one.”

    “No one? You look like a ghost just texted you,” Brenda says. “Is that why you asked me about Teresa? Oh, this is _good_ , tell me everything.”

    “Shut up and tell me what to say,” Newt panics, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

    “Just say hi! Little Newt’s got a crush, I can’t believe it,” Brenda says, Newt hating how much she’s enjoying this.

    “How do I word that?” Newt feels a headache coming on, staring at the screen with a thousand responses flooding through his mind.

    Brenda grabs the phone from him again, Newt not bothering to protest.

    “How would you respond in real life?” Brenda asks.

    “I guess… ‘Hey’? I don’t know,” Newt says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

    Brenda types and looks back up at him, Newt looking at her expectantly.

    “What?” Newt asks, looking between her and his phone.

    “I sent it, just chill out,” Brenda says, laughing. “I’ll tell you when he answers, but til then, who is he?”

    “He’s from school, he’s no one,” Newt says, struggling to get enough air into his lungs to respond.

    “I don’t know a Tommy from school,” Brenda says.

    “See? Nobody,” Newt says. Brenda shakes her head, clearly deep in thought now.

    “Tommy… short for Thomas?” Brenda asks.

    “Did he answer?” Newt asks.

    “That’s a yes,” Brenda continues. “Thomas… there’s a few.”

    “ _Brenda_ ,” Newt pleas, looking at his phone.

    She rolls her eyes and looks down at the phone. “He says, ‘Got tired of waiting, so I figured I’d text you myself. Like the contact name?’,” Brenda quotes. “Tired of waiting?”

    “I gave him my number and never texted him,” Newt says, mostly to himself. “He’s been _waiting_?”

    “Do you wanna apologize?” Brenda asks.

    “Tell him… tell him I’ve been busy,” Newt says.

    “Yeah, I’m not gonna do that,” Brenda says.

    “Then just— just tell him I like the name, I guess,” Newt says. He must have programmed it in himself. But how’d he get _his_ number? “After you send it can you check my call history?”

    Brenda texts him and then checks, handing Newt back the phone. Sure enough, six days ago, Thomas had called himself. Clever.

    “Newt, tell me, or I text him and tell him you’re in love with him right now,” Brenda says. Newt sighs, too stressed to care.

    “I don’t even know his last name, but his name is Thomas, he plays baseball, he’s on the track team, and apparently he’s in philosophy,” Newt says quickly.

    “ _That_ Thomas?” Brenda says excitedly. “Newt, he’s gorgeous, he’s an athlete, he’s popular, he gave you his number, and you call him _Tommy_? How did it happen?”

    **I’m glad! How’s the drawing coming along?**

    Newt responds this time, trying to type like he’d talk.

    **Finished it, actually. How’d you remember?**

    Thomas replies almost instantly, making Newt smile.

    **Like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. Excited for philosophy tomorrow?**

    “This is so cute. It’d be cuter if you’d answer me,” Brenda says.

    “He disagreed with me about the afterlife, he called me cynical, and then we talked after class,” Newt says, glossing over the interaction.

    “You _are_ pretty cynical,” Brenda points out.

    **Can cynics be excited about things?**

    Newt realizes tone can’t be heard in a text and groans. Thomas is going to think he’s just plain rude.

    **I like to think so. Then again, I’m an optimist.**

    “You know what, though, I’ve never seen you smile this much before,” Brenda says. “Thomas must be pretty special.”

    **I just prefer to see things how they make sense.**

    **Interesting... I have to go, but I’ll see you in philosophy. Goodnight Newt!**

    “Whatever you say, add a smiley face to the end of it,” Brenda says, reading his texts over his phone.

    **Goodnight Tommy :)**

    Newt turns his phone off and goes to throw it, but Brenda takes it from him.

    “Now tell me _everything_.”

 

  
Brenda had left an hour later after making Newt tell her every single detail about his encounter with Thomas. She’d left him off with one haunting sentence. _He seems into you_.

    It’s all he’s thinking about as he walks into philosophy. But he can’t let himself believe it, he can’t get his hopes up. There is no way Thomas would be interested in him.

    “Newt!” Newt looks up to find Thomas sitting in his seat from last week, pointing at the one next to him. His heart flutters at the sight, the smile appearing on his face against his will.

    “Hey, Tommy,” Newt says, sitting down next to him and trying to keep his cool.

    “Did you have a nice day?” Thomas asks.

 _Stop being cute._ “Horrible,” Newt jokes, making Thomas laugh. “How was yours?”

    “Incredible,” Thomas says. “Better now.”

    Newt’s words get caught in his throat. He must be pulling some sort of prank on him.

    “Everyone seems to be here, so hello guys,” Janson thankfully interrupts. Newt hadn’t even noticed him or any of the rest of the kids come in, but he’s glad for the change in subject. “Open discussion today. Anyone have a topic on their mind?”

    “Beliefs,” Thomas says. Figures.

    “Like what?” Janson asks, crossing his arms.

    “In things like superstitions, old wives tales…” Thomas trails off. “Love at first sight. That sort of thing.”

    Newt feels his chest tighten at his last words, forcing himself to look down.

    “Interesting. Anyone else?” Janson asks.

    A girl from a few rows behind starts talking and Newt takes the opportunity to get the drawing he’s working on out, trying to distract himself. Thomas is getting to him, and _fast_.

    “That’s good,” Thomas says. “I’ve always liked the concept of more than meets the eye, it applies to so many things.”

    Newt can’t help but feel like everything Thomas says is directed at him, but he tries to remain straight faced while drawing. Thomas is so vocal, though, that he can’t help but listen to every word he says.

    “Alright, we’ll do a poll.”

    Newt looks up as Thomas jumps onto his desk, sitting and facing the rest of the class. Janson seems not to mind, letting Thomas basically take the reigns. Probably the perks of being a popular kid.

    “Show of hands, who believes in chain mail? Like, share this or bad luck?” Thomas asks. One or two kids raise their hands, and Thomas smiles. “New question, how many people don’t really believe, but do it anyway?”

    Most of the kids raise their hands now, Newt not included, and Thomas nods, his hand raised. “Alright, who believes in things like the tooth fairy and the easter bunny?”

    Nobody raises their hand and Thomas frowns. “Nobody? Well that’s kinda sad. New question, who _believed_ in them?” Every kid raises their hand, including him and a reluctant Newt, and Thomas looks pleased. “Who believes there’s life places other than on Earth?”

    Some kids raise their hands, some kids don’t. But Newt is stuck in the middle only raising his hand halfway.

    “Newt,” Thomas turns on him with his hand raised, Newt wanting to sigh. Of course. “Aliens, yes or no?”

    “Just thinking from a scientific standpoint, it’s unlikely with all the galaxies out there that we’d be the only one with life,” Newt says.

    “So that’s a yes,” Thomas grins, holding his eye contact with Newt and not letting go. “Hands up, who believes in love at first sight?”

    Newt doesn’t know who raises their hand and who doesn’t, because he’s stuck being locked in on Thomas, his head spinning. Thomas doesn’t look at the rest of the class either, staring only at Newt.

    “What do you think?” Thomas asks more softly, Newt’s heart caught in his throat. It doesn’t help when Thomas raises his own hand. “Does _this_ make sense?” he quotes Newt’s words from the night before. 

    “I…” Newt’s not even sure he believes in true love _itself_ , let alone love at first sight. But with the look Thomas is giving him, he almost _wants_ to believe. For him. He can only imagine the disappointment if he said no.

    So he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t elaborate. All he does is raise his hand a bit, not much, but enough for Thomas to see. Thomas beams, turning to the class.

    “Alright, Harriet, you do your topic,” he says, before swiftly getting off his desk and sitting back down, facing Newt again and lowering his voice. “A rocket?”

    Newt stutters, not completely out of his trance yet. “Uh, a—“, Thomas cuts him off by putting his finger on Newt’s desk, Newt looking to where he’s pointing. He’s referring to his drawing, Newt’s latest.

    It’s a rocket, and an extremely realistic one. Newt’s proud of this one, having spent the past five days on it.

    “Oh, it’s not done yet,” Newt says lamely, picking up his pencil.

    “It’s amazing,” Thomas says. “I like that it’s in the air.”

    “Thank you,” Newt smiles. “I wanted to practice drawing fire and motion, so… rocket it was.”

    “Do you like space?” Thomas asks.

    “It’s fascinating I s’pose,” Newt says.

    “Endless possibilities. Things we can’t see, things we haven’t discovered yet. But they’re all there,” Thomas says, giving Newt a look he doesn’t understand before turning away and responding to something Harriet had said.

 

  
From that day on, Newt and Thomas start speaking a lot more often, each conversation confusing Newt more and more. Thomas waves to him in the halls, texts him regularly, and makes him participate in the next two philosophy sessions. Everything is initiated by him, Newt still not sure why Thomas is even bothering with him.

    Brenda insists to him that he should try harder, text him first, show interest. She says Thomas is interested, and to go for it, but the thought scares Newt more than anything. Even if Thomas’ tone does seem… flirty. How can Newt be sure that’s not just his imagination?

    Newt is thinking about all this while waiting for his mother to pick him up, sitting outside and drawing, trying to ignore the particularly touchy couple a few feet away from him. Despite all the distractions, he continues to work, detailing the wing of the bird on his page.

    “I love it.” Newt jumps, turning to see Thomas hovering over him.

    Newt breathes out, trying to calm himself down. “Thanks, Tommy.”

    “Mind if I join? Practice was cancelled today,” Thomas says. Newt gestures to the spot next to him on the bench and he sits down quickly, settling for a spot that leaves almost no gap between the two boys.

    The couple sitting against the wall next to them have begun full on making out, the girl practically on top of her boyfriend. Newt can’t control the grossed out look on his face at the PDA, hating how loud they’re being.

    “Straight people,” Thomas scoffs lowly. Newt snaps his head toward Thomas, not believing what he’d just heard. “Gotta get a room.”

    “You— you’re…” Newt starts, shaking his head, a nervous laugh escaping him.

    “Oh, sorry, don’t mean to offend,” Thomas says quickly, his expression changing.

    “No, you didn’t offend me, I’m… you’re not… straight?” Newt asks, mentally slapping himself for not being able to speak.

    “Bi, and with more common decency than them,” Thomas gestures.

    “I’m not straight,” Newt says lowly, this time openly cringing at himself.

    Thomas’ face softens into a smile, the doubtful odd expression that was just there disappearing. “Really?” he asks, speaking at a volume only loud enough for Newt to hear.

    “Really,” Newt says. “I’m not into girls, though, just, uh—“

    “Just guys,” Thomas interrupts, his lopsided grin making Newt’s stomach do a cartwheel. The two of them smile at each other for a few moments before Newt hears the sound of a car horn, turning to see his mother’s car pulling up.

    “I have to go,” Newt says, his heart breaking a little at the thought. He doesn’t want to leave, he wants to… well, he doesn’t know _what_ he wants to do. But leaving is not it.

    “I’ll see you at philosophy tomorrow,” Thomas says, Newt noticing his eyes searching his face while he says it.

    Newt nods and gets up, waving at him before walking away. If he steals a glance back or two, it’s only because he can’t help it.

    When he gets in the car he’s still in his trance, closing the door behind him and thinking about Tommy. His smile, his voice. The fact that he likes boys.

    “You’re smiling,” his mum says, Newt turning to her.

    “Yeah, so?” Newt says.

    “ _So_ , who was the boy?”

 

  
Newt had had the worst day. He was still happy when he’d gotten home, but it was quickly ruined by the unwelcome surprise of his father coming over. They’d never gotten along, but when he’d left them, Newt had sworn to hate him for the rest of his life. Unfortunately though, his little sister Lizzy was too young to remember.

    He’d managed to avoid him for most of the night, but he had to come down for dinner. It was torture to see Lizzy talking to him, and torture to see his mother have to sit there uncomfortably while they did. So at the first snide comment the man made towards Newt, he was ready to snap.

    After a yelling match between him and his father, Newt was back in his room. Angry and upset. His mind drifted to Thomas, wanting to text him, call him, run away to wherever he was. But he refrained from any of those things.

    He didn’t even text Brenda, not wanting to burden her. He was alone in this, and he needed to just cry and sulk. Newt did just that, crying, drawing, and wallowing until he fell asleep.

    School wasn’t a picnic either. Two surprise pop quizzes he wasn’t prepared for, a particularly annoying gym class, and being called out by his teachers more than once for not paying attention.

    So when Thomas is nowhere to be found twenty minutes into philosophy, everything in Newt seems to crumble. He doesn’t say a word to anyone, mulling over every conversation with the boy he’s had. _He probably doesn’t even like me_ , Newt thinks. _What was I thinking? Why would he care?_

    “Who believes in miracles?” Janson asks. Newt’s too busy drawing, a car this time, to participate. “Newt, what do you think?”

    Putting his pencil down, Newt looks up. “What do I think?” he starts, his tone bitter. “I think miracles are for children. Good things happen, sure, but they’re not _miracles_. If miracles exist, who’s giving them out? Hm? When people are dying, where’s their miracle? When a father abandons his own family, where’s their bloody miracle?”

    Newt freezes, realizing how much he’d raised his voice. When he looks around, everyone is silent, staring at him. But one face in particular stops him.

    Thomas is standing at the door, wearing almost the same shocked expression as everyone else, but his has something more to it when they lock eyes. Pity. Sadness.

    Without saying a word, Newt quickly gathers all of his things and walks out of the classroom just as Thomas walks in. He hears his name being called as he does so, but he ignores it, continuing to walk.

    He walks and walks, and with every step he builds his wall back up again. Miracles don’t exist, none of those things are real. What’s real is him, what’s real is his life.

    “ _Newt_.” Newt knows it’s Thomas’ voice calling after him, but he wills himself to ignore him, call after call.

    Eventually, just as he’s about to reach the entrance of the school, he feels a hand on his shoulder turning him around.

    He’s not strong enough to resist, so when he’s met with Thomas’ confused expression, he returns it with his own stone cold one.

    “What do you want, Tommy?” Newt asks with no emotion, pushing down the tugging at his heart. Thomas looks down at Newt’s papers in his hand, Newt not having bothered putting them away.

    “Do you know what all of your drawings have in common?” Thomas asks.

    “I’m not in the mood for this right now,” Newt says, turning away and starting to walk before finding Thomas in front of him again.

    “Newt, just listen to me—“

    “Why do you bother with me anyway?” The words come out like venom, but Newt can’t seem to stop. “You’re popular, everyone likes you. So why bother? Am I your little project or something? You think you can make me some bloody happy-go-lucky optimist?

    “I’ve got news for you Tommy, this is life. This is _me_. I appreciate you trying, I do, but nothing is changing,” he finishes, hating everything about what he said, hating everything about his situation, and hating himself. But most of all, he hates that Thomas flinches at his words, left with a hurt expression.

    “Your drawings all have one thing in common. The first one I saw, the bike, I noticed you liked realism. But the more you drew, I realized it wasn’t _about_ the realism,” Thomas says. Newt doesn’t respond, but doesn’t stop him either, so he continues on.

    “Newt, everything you draw _moves_ ,” Thomas says. Newt furrows his eyebrows at him before he elaborates. “The bike, the rocket, the bird, this car, they’re all going someplace. There's a reason for that.”

    “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Newt says less harshly this time. Thomas gets half a step closer to him, lightly putting his hand on Newt’s arm, sending an irrational wave of comfort through him.

    “You hide behind a mask, acting all pessimistic because it’s just easier that way. But I see through it, I see _you_. You’re a dreamer, you’re artistic, you’re funny, you’re sweet,” Thomas says. “There’s a lot more to you, Newt. So when you ask why I ‘bother’... it’s because I want to. I _want_ to know you. I _want_ to see more.”

    “Tommy—“

    “You said you weren’t a believer. But I don’t buy it. I know you want more and I know it’s been tough, but good things _can_ happen. You just have to open up and let them,” Thomas says.

    Suddenly, none of Newt’s problems exist, the wall is gone, and there’s only him and Tommy. And once again, he finds himself _wanting_ to believe.

    So he does. With all the faith in his heart giving one last leap, he drops his papers and cups the other boy’s face in his hands, pulling him in until their lips meet.

    The first split second goes by like a century, Newt’s heart and brain and everything else stopping until he feels Thomas kiss back eagerly. Newt’s hands fall so one is on Thomas’ shoulder and the other is on the back of his neck to keep him closer, and Thomas seems to have the same idea, wrapping his arms around Newt.

    Even when they need air, they only stop kissing for a moment, before moving right back in. They smile into it now, taking everything about each other in.

    Newt’s never known a comfort like this before. It’s always been uncertainty, unwillingness to think about anything as good as this. As good as him.

    When they finally pull away, they’re both beaming, Newt loving his sight. Thomas with his big, dilated eyes, his blush, and the pure happiness on his face.

    “Do you believe me now?” Thomas asks breathlessly.

    “I do. I believe you,” Newt says, his heart swelling at Thomas’ face in response. “I believe.”

    He really means it.

 


End file.
